|by Margaret Bednar at Art Happens 365|
and northern winters were no anodyne
She needed the heat despite herself
She knew this as she knew her name
as she knew the wisteria blooms
and long, grey fingers of Spanish moss
She dreamed Southern dreams
followed restless ghosts
sat under bottle trees of cobalt glass
and drank sun tea
She stared at her paleness in the mirror
that once the warm Gulf waters
run through your veins
you can never really leave.
submitted for Poetry Jam, You Can Go Home Again
and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Photography Challenge for Sunday
ahhh... I love those last three lines...
Lovely. I've only been down that way once in my life, but I can understand the draw.
If it just wasn't so dang muggy!
This is so true. So true.
amen. i miss living in FL...and love the spanish moss...and swimming in the gulf...the taste of the air...one day i will again...
And now you know why I moved to the south! Beautiful.
I am so honored, Lolamouse! ha ha this is great and has the feel of Bonaventure Cemetery, that's for sure. In the Victorian age, they really did socialize HERE - it was the place to walk under the grey fingers and amongst the wisteria blooms. You can use my photography anytime you like. Just let me know so I can enjoy it. :)
Wonderful relatable words that reflect the beautiful capture by Margaret Bednar.
I loved this, Lolamouse. I truly can understand a person's love for this part of the country. Some places just DO get into a person's blood. (I'm one who is experiencing one of those 'northern winters' right now.) Thank you for participating in Poetry Jam!
This has a wonderful sense of place to it. A beautiful setting that calls to have poems written such as yours.
amazing!! beautiful words. I love the end! :)
That was wonderful! Very vivid!
Really lovely. I have not been participating in Poetry Jam for a while, but I try to catch up. Thanks for your words!
lovely logic and reasoning,
well penned poetry,
make a contribution to us if you could, bless you.
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